


Bittersweet

by Mercey



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2021, Andreil, Andreil fallout, Because I'm A Wuss, Inspired by Music, M/M, Referenced Car Sex, angst but with a happy ending, depressive Andrew, idk man it's like 5am, twinyard therapy session
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:20:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29053527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercey/pseuds/Mercey
Summary: ‘Why would Neil want to be with someone who can’t even care for him the right way? Why would he want that life for himself? He’s not a runaway anymore, he’s not so desperate for affection that he’ll settle for my meagre offerings, and good for him. It’s better that way.’Andrew's spiralling with graduation coming up, and beginning to question the very foundations upon which he and Neil are built.
Relationships: Aaron Minyard & Andrew Minyard, Andrew Minyard & David Wymack, Betsy Dobson & Andrew Minyard, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Nicky Hemmick & Andrew Minyard, Robin Cross & Andrew Minyard, Robin Cross & Neil Josten
Comments: 73
Kudos: 281
Collections: AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2021





	1. Colours Bleed to Grey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dahmers_apt213](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dahmers_apt213/gifts).



> First of all, I want to say that this first chapter was incredibly hard for me to write, but I think I'm happy with it now? Of course, it's gonna have a happy ending, but until then... revel in pain with me.
> 
> Thanks to [SelflessAmbition](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SelflessAmbition/pseuds/SelflessAmbition) for being a wonderful beta and to [dahmers_apt213](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dahmers_apt213/pseuds/dahmers_apt213) for choosing the song [Feel Something by Jaymes Young.](https://open.spotify.com/track/0vMI3AJPQMjytAu8XMWr65?si=Ctb0BzkzRKKoz1IeVUGgHQ)

Andrew Minyard smoked three cigarettes down to the filter before his partner found him. Though, perhaps “found” was giving Neil too much credit. He’d seen Andrew leave after dinner, and probably saw that their car was still parked in front of Fox Tower. With every other option eliminated, there was really only one place he could be.

‘You’re insane for being up here,’ was how Neil chose to greet him, tossing a raincoat over Andrew’s shoulders.

‘Come rain or shine,’ Andrew intoned.

He shrugged the coat on and shuffled over, making room for Neil under the sparse offering of shelter from the bulkhead above. 

Leaving a few inches of space between them, Neil slid down the wall to sit beside Andrew. He didn’t hold his hand out for a cigarette, and Andrew didn’t offer him one. They sat in silence, watching the faint mist of rain catch in the light.

This routine had been theirs for three years now. After dinner, or practice, or just when one of them felt like it, they would migrate up to the roof. On good days they might make out for a while. On bad days, each other’s company was all that was needed. Tonight was especially bad. 

All day, Andrew had felt like an observer, had felt as though he was watching himself from outside of his body. He ditched class. He’d gotten top marks in all but the final paper due next week, so he could afford to, but it was more than that. Andrew had simply stopped caring. 

Clouds blocked out the sun that day, and Andrew felt similarly overcast. He was absent in his own life, the clouds of apathy turning everything pale and colourless.

So he'd come up to the roof, in the hopes that—if not the threat of a five-storey drop—then at least the rain and chill in the air would bring back his ability to _feel_. He was out of luck. Not even Neil’s presence beside him could bring feeling back to him. Andrew felt nothing.

He knew Bee would tell him this was a normal part of recovery. That it was a “defence mechanism” that stemmed from his abandonment issues. She thought they were resurfacing in light of the fact that he’d be leaving Neil behind at the end of the year, but Andrew knew his issues had never truly _left_. It was why he brokered deals. His deals gave him a purpose, because without one, what was the point? 

Bee would say it delicately, mindful of Andrew’s fears, but the meaning would be the same. Andrew had to let Aaron go. He had to let Nicky go. He had to entrust Robin to Neil and leave them both in Palmetto, alone and unprotected.

A week ago, that realisation had felt like looking down from a high drop. Andrew’s stomach had plummeted, his skin breaking out in a sweat under his collar. Now, that dread was gone, replaced with a delicious sense of detachment. If Andrew had to leave Neil behind, and let everyone else leave him behind, too, he’d rather do it numb. He bore too many wounds to let a few more rattle him.

Time ceased for a while, the cold seeping into Andrew’s bones, but it wasn’t until Neil began to shiver that Andrew noticed. 

‘Go inside. You’re cold,’ Andrew said. 

Neil shook his head. ‘’M not leavin’ you alone,’ he said through gritted teeth. _Ah,_ thought Andrew, _so Neil_ had _noticed something._

Usually, this would be enough to send Andrew inside, if only so Neil would follow. As it were, Andrew felt only indifference. He took another drag, the smoke rolling tasteless and distant over his tongue. 

‘You know it makes no difference to me whether you leave or stay.’ Neil rolled his eyes but Andrew continued, feeling destructive and curious. How much would it take for Neil to give up? ‘Nothing that you do has any influence over me, Neil. You could punch me, scream at me, kiss someone in front of me, and I wouldn’t care.’

‘You don’t mean that,’ Neil said dismissively, but there was an edge of doubt in his tone. 

Andrew dragged him across it. ‘You could turn into one of them, and I still wouldn’t care.’

‘Why are you saying this?’ Neil snapped, agitated now. ‘What’s the point you’re trying to prove?’

‘No point.’ Andrew shrugged. He flicked ash on the ground near his shoe. ‘I’m merely relaying the truth.’

The walls of Andrew’s chest, so often lined with razor blades and molten fire, were packed full of cotton. Everything felt remote, muted; everything was numb, and Andrew wondered if Neil was the only one who could bring him back from this point. After all, Neil was the pipedream who could somehow ice his fire with a cool, blue stare, who could blunt the sharp sting of Andrew’s past. Would the sight of Neil walking away part the clouds? Or would it leave him more paralysed than ever?

‘That’s not truth,’ Neil grumbled lowly, ‘it’s stupid speculation that you shouldn’t be wasting your time on. I’m as likely to kiss someone else as I am to dance ballet during the half-time show next week.’

‘You could do that, too,’ Andrew said. ‘I wouldn’t feel anything.’ At Neil’s impatient sigh, Andrew looked at him, eyes tracing his profile. ‘Don’t you get it, Neil? _I don’t feel anything for you._ Doesn’t that bother you?’

Neil closed his eyes, his lashes dark and glistening with rain. ‘Do you want it to bother me? Because right now the only thing bothering me is the cold.’

Andrew took in Neil’s hunched shoulders, his balled-up fists, the tension in his cheek as he worked his jaw and thought that, for all of his apathy, he was still struck with how beautiful Neil was before breaking.

‘You really don’t care that I could watch you fling yourself over that ledge and not feel a thing?’ 

‘That’s bullshit.’

‘Is it?’

Neil’s frayed breathing was Andrew’s answer. He softened his voice, the words almost loving now.

‘You deserve someone who can care about you, Neil. But that’s not me.’

‘So, you’re ending it?’ Neil asked, the ghost of a laugh escaping him. ‘That’s what this is? You’re putting an end to us?’

Andrew shrugged. ‘I could be. Like I already said—’ He flicked his cigarette and his caution to the wind. ‘—I don’t care if you stay.’

The silence that settled between them felt distant, too, like a quiet meadow from within a car. Reduced, somehow. 

Neil dug his thumb into the cruel smile twisting his lips, waiting for it to vanish before speaking again. ‘Andrew, if this is about graduation…’ Neil trailed off, looking lost and weary.

Andrew didn’t prompt him. He didn’t care to hear whatever argument Neil could come up with.

Seeming to sense this, Neil stared at Andrew for a long moment. When Andrew met his gaze, Neil was looking at him like he was a stranger, like he didn’t know Andrew at all. 

Satisfied, Andrew stood. ‘I’m going inside.’

Neil hesitated but ultimately followed, his movements robotic. His brow was furrowed in thought and his hands still clenched at his sides. He stopped outside the dorm, wavering on the threshold. 

‘I think I’ll go for a run,’ he said.

Andrew gave him a bland look and closed the door between them. His coat was sticky and hot and he shook it off before Nicky could screech at him about dripping on the floor. 

Robin looked up from her homework and frowned. ‘Didn’t Neil go with you?’

‘Running,’ Andrew answered simply and Robin’s frown deepened. 

‘But it’s pouring out, and it’s late.’

These words were meant to kindle something in Andrew. Worry, or concern. He could distantly recall a time when Neil went running at midnight, years ago, and Andrew had driven around campus in the snow until he found the idiot half-frozen to a lamp-post. He _knew_ he was meant to be worried, knew he should want to go after Neil and bring him back, but he couldn’t seem to make himself care. 

‘Andrew?’ 

Robin blinked indignantly as he passed her on the way to the bedroom. He heard the door open and close behind her as she went after Neil, and knew he should at least want to stop _her._ Robin was under his protection, and she was fragile. Robin _needed_ protecting. But he wasn’t going to be there for her next year, either.

Nicky was snoring in his bunk—the one on top of the one Andrew shared with Neil—and didn’t stir as Andrew stripped himself of his sodden clothes, exchanging them for sweats. Then again, nothing ever woke Nicky once he was out. 

The sound of the door opening once more admitted the quiet, dragging footfalls of Neil and Robin—Andrew guessed she’d caught him in the stairwell—along with the heavy-step of Aaron. He was spending a night away from the cheerleader. How noble of him. 

Andrew settled himself under his blankets and tuned out the sounds of Aaron’s thinly-veiled concern for Neil.

‘Has your dumb ass never heard of hypothermia?’

‘I’ve gotten hypothermia, Aaron. Twice.’

‘Get in the shower, unless you want to make it thrice.’

Andrew waited for some reaction to hit him. The sense of strangeness that came with Aaron no longer being outwardly hostile towards Neil. Their tenuous friendship had been hard-won, and Andrew had used to feel the beginnings of something he refused to call pride whenever he bore witness to it. Even Neil’s readiness to divulge some small truth about his life— _I’ve gotten hypothermia_ —ought to have made Andrew feel _some_ kind of way. But nothing was forthcoming. Neil was nothing. Life was nothing. 

Aaron blew into the room and proceeded to rifle through Neil’s drawers, withdrawing a pair of track pants and one of Neil’s well-worn grey shirts.

‘You and your boyfriend need a better make-out spot,’ Aaron muttered. _‘Indoors.’_ He slammed the drawers shut and left again, missing the blank look Andrew favoured him with, not catching the condescending line of his mouth. For all of Aaron’s supposed brains, he didn’t really know anything at all. 

The way Robin avoided Andrew’s eye as she climbed up to her loft told him that she knew at least some of what had transpired between Andrew and Neil. She had, unsurprisingly, taken Neil’s side, and some part of Andrew knew he deserved to be turned against. 

Andrew felt nothing even when Neil returned from his shower, clothed in the sweats Aaron had retrieved, and—instead of falling onto the bed beside Andrew—scaled the ladder up to Robin’s bunk. 

Andrew had figured Neil wouldn’t want to sleep next to someone who didn’t give a shit about him, and Robin was the most logical choice, but he still found his eyes locked onto the mattress where it dipped under their combined weight. 

At last, the first sign of surrender. 

Robin cared about Neil. She probably wasn’t going to drive him away just to see if it sparked some kind of panic, fear, _feeling_ in her. Robin wasn’t selfish. Robin wasn’t a monster. 

Ignoring the look Aaron shot him at Neil’s choice of bed-buddy, Andrew flicked off the light and settled on his side. Aaron made an exasperated noise before climbing under his own covers, and Andrew squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t care what his brother thought, didn’t care that Neil wasn’t beside him, didn’t care about the things he’d said on the roof… So then, that begged the question: Why couldn’t he seem to get to sleep?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the angst!! The song was really freakin' sad. Next chapter should be up tomorrow!!
> 
> Come find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/CAMercey) or [Tumblr!!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/camercey)


	2. Feel My Nerves Wake Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew regains some normalcy, but continues to avoid Neil. What he can't avoid, however, is his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a lot of Andreil in this chapter (it's coming, I promise) but this is for all of y'all who said Andrew needs therapy. Enjoy!!

The chocolatey cereal Andrew scarfed down dissolved like sawdust in his mouth. He persevered for only a moment before pushing the bowl away in disgust. He was alone in the dorm and the task of eating was intolerable without some form of distraction. 

Everyone else had early classes that morning, and Andrew had listened to them all shuffle out at around six. Neil’s eyes had been heavy on his back before slipping out the door while Andrew slipped into the warm embrace of sleep. 

He didn’t dream in the night—you have to sleep in order to dream—but the morning was riddled with horrors, with Neil twisted into unrecognisable shapes that Andrew still knew to be  _ Neil.  _ He woke with a shudder, his hands grappling for the knife he hadn’t kept under his pillow in quite some time.

He was still slumped in a bean bag chair, poking soggy bits of cereal with a spoon, when the door opened a short while later. Nicky gave Andrew a concerned once-over, immediately cutting to the chase.

‘What happened between you and Neil?’

Andrew sighed. He must’ve gotten at least an hour of sleep if Nicky was home, but he was already tired of this conversation.

‘Something happened?’ he asked drily.

Nicky bit his lip, considering, then decided on an alternative route of questioning. ‘Why was Neil in Robin’s bed this morning?’

‘That sounds like a question for Neil.’

‘Maybe, but I’m asking you.’

‘Because Neil didn’t want to be near me, Nicky,’ Andrew snapped. ‘Because why would he?’

It wasn’t until Andrew said the words that he noticed the absence of that numb feeling that had plagued him yesterday. The guilt he’d been waiting for was slowly rising, and he heard it in his voice when he talked. He gripped part of the chair beside his leg, feeling the beans roll and slip around his fingers. 

‘Why would Neil want to be with someone who can’t even care for him the right way? Why would he want that life for himself?’ Andrew’s breathing grew ragged as he bunched the fabric of the chair in his hands again, and again. ‘He’s not a runaway anymore, he’s not so desperate for affection that he’ll settle for my meagre offerings, and  _ good for him.  _ It’s better that way.’

‘Andrew,’ Nicky said, crouching in front of him—like Andrew was a wayward lion he couldn’t risk challenging—and taking the cereal bowl gently from his lap. ‘Andrew, you need to wake up.’ 

The words weren’t said harshly, but they still caused something in Andrew to snap. ‘What?’

‘You need to wake up,’ Nicky said again. ‘You think I haven’t been through this a hundred times with Erik? You think I haven’t thought it would be best for him to move on? To be with someone on his own continent who can give him more than I can?’

Andrew considered telling Nicky that he could count the number of times he’d thought about Nicky’s relationship problems on one hand, but refrained.

‘Andrew,’ Nicky started again, eyes tight, ‘the things you’ve suffered don’t cheapen your love and—before you say anything—I  _ know  _ you love Neil; I know, or else you wouldn’t be having this crisis over what’s best for him.’ Nicky stood, sighing. Andrew was surprised to find himself listening to Nicky for once, until he continued. ‘But that boy loves you more than anything and, if you let a love like that slip away, you’ll hate yourself for it.’

The spell shattered. Nicky didn’t know anything. His problems with Neil weren’t anything like Nicky’s problems with Erik, and Andrew would not come to hate himself for pushing Neil away. Why? Well, because he was already there.

Clearing his throat, Andrew ran a hand down his face then said, ‘If you ever try to talk to me about Neil again, I will kill you.’

He didn’t turn to watch Nicky walk behind him, but the sound of his bowl in the sink and the tap turning on signalled the end of the conversation. Message delivered, message received. 

— 

The following day, Andrew waited in the car for Aaron. They still had their therapy session with Bee on a Wednesday and Andrew—who had come to accept these sessions as necessary and not always awful—was dreading it. 

Aaron remained silent for the short drive from the court to Bee’s office, but his leg jumped while he continually ran his hands through his damp hair, betraying his agitation. His quiet, ‘I don’t have to come in today,’ once they arrived, told Andrew that he wasn’t the only one having forebodings about this session. 

Though Andrew didn’t vocalise his commiseration, he waited for Aaron outside the car and locked it behind him once he joined him. They avoided each other's gaze and walked into the office together. 

Aaron had kept his distance over the last couple of days: not talking to Andrew at practice, getting a ride to the court elsewhere, spending the previous night at the cheerleader’s and offering Robin his bed so Neil could take hers. Though Andrew knew his brother had an ulterior motive, that last one was still a strangely kind gesture coming from him. 

Andrew wondered how much Aaron had been told and how much he’d guessed. Neil wasn’t the sort to air their dirty laundry for the world to see, but he’d at least told Robin enough to earn her sympathy. Neil also wasn’t the sort to try and repay Andrew for hurting him, but maybe this time he made an exception. He knew that Aaron was a sore spot for him. Was he really above exploiting it?

‘Hello, Andrew. Aaron,’ Bee greeted them when they filed into her room. 

‘Hi, Bee,’ said Andrew.

Aaron settled for a wave and a tight smile. 

They sat in their usual spots on the couch, Andrew nearest the door with one leg pulled to his chest while Aaron fell in beside him. Their first few sessions had seen Aaron sitting upright, his posture erect, on guard for an attack. Now, Aaron lay almost horizontal, his arms folded as he regarded Andrew strangely.

Andrew really ought to congratulate Bee. She’d made a willing-patient of his brother after all.

‘Can I get you two anything?’ Bee asked, already standing and making her way to the coffee machine. 

This was where Andrew typically rolled his eyes and demanded “anything with enough chocolate to get me through this.” But today he stayed silent, thinking on his sawdust cereal from the day before and not eager to find out what it tasted like hot and watery. 

Bee noticed his silence and raised an eyebrow. ‘Nothing today, Andrew?’

Andrew shook his head.

Bee simply hummed quietly and went about making herself a coffee.

‘He’s been like this for days,’ Aaron pitched in.

‘What do you mean?’ Bee asked. She was long past telling Aaron not to talk over Andrew. She’d asked Andrew about it once in a private session, and he had told her that he thought it was the only way to get Aaron talking to her. He was right, but anger still clawed at him while he listened to his brother and his psychiatrist talk about him as though he wasn’t there.

‘Just… not normal. Whatever normal is when it comes to Andrew.’

‘I see,’ Bee murmured, pouring out her coffee and taking her usual place in the armchair beside her desk. ‘Do you think you could expand on that, Aaron?’

Bee was always more by-the-book in their joint sessions. It put Aaron at ease if she behaved exactly as he expected her to. 

Aaron glanced at Andrew. ‘Do  _ you _ think you could expand on that?’ Andrew shrugged, earning himself a scowl before Aaron continued. ‘He’s in some kind of shit with Neil. I don’t know what happened, but something did and he’s completely shut himself off over it.’

The thoughtful look on Bee’s face put Andrew on edge. ‘Andrew? Do you feel comfortable with talking about what happened with Neil?’

Andrew swiped a tissue from the table between them, balling it up in his hands. ‘I told Neil something he didn’t want to hear. What I said is not for Aaron to know.’

‘I don’t want to know,’ Aaron said immediately—predictably. ‘But I thought we were past shutting each other out.’

‘Aaron makes a good point, Andrew,’ Bee said, loyal until she wasn’t. ‘Is it that you don’t want Aaron to know what’s happening with Neil, or that you don’t want to confide in Aaron about anything at all?’

‘I don’t want to talk about Neil,’ Andrew said firmly. ‘What happens between us is between  _ us.’  _

‘Considering he told Robin, I’d say that Neil didn’t get that memo.’ 

Aaron didn’t know it, but his words were a well-placed blow. They hit Andrew right where he was feeling the most doubt and left him winded. ‘Neil is free to talk to whomever he wants,’ Andrew gritted out. ‘I don’t care about him. I don’t care.’

The last words were lies, and Andrew couldn’t even fool himself. Anger had crept into his voice and Andrew had unwittingly given too much away. Pins and needles stabbed at his chest as another wave of  _ feeling  _ came over him. 

Aaron scowled at him. ‘Is that what happened? That’s what Neil didn’t want to hear?’ He scoffed harshly. ‘And he believed you?’

‘I said I don’t want to talk about Neil.’

‘And I call bullshit.’

‘Alright, alright,’ Bee intervened, finding her voice. ‘Let's not talk about Neil. Let’s instead talk about your reasons for not caring. Andrew?’

‘You don’t really believe—’

‘I haven’t felt anything.’

Aaron shut up when Andrew spoke. Andrew had the suspicion Aaron hadn’t expected him to. 

Bee smiled. ‘Go on, Andrew.’

Andrew rolled the tissue around his hands, his palms now covered in small white flecks.  _ Cheap shit,  _ Andrew thought. 

‘Sometimes different emotions arise where they aren’t meant to be,’ he finally said.

Bee nodded. ‘Like we’ve spoken about before?’

‘Yes, but it’s different. It’s like when I first came off the meds.’

‘Hm.’ Bee took a sip of her coffee. ‘And what do you think could be causing this?’

Andrew picked some tissue off his finger. ‘It’s a defence mechanism, detaching me from my emotional response to a scenario with the potential to trigger my post-traumatic-stress-disorder.’

‘That’s an interesting  _ theory _ ,’ Bee said reprovingly. ‘Can you think of a way to put it that isn’t a direct quote from the  _ Applied Psychophysiology and Biofeedback _ textbook?’

Andrew smirked. Bee’s memory was almost as good as his own. He enjoyed challenging her to use it. 

‘You get the idea, don’t you, Bee?’

She sighed. ‘Alright. Aaron, do you have anything you want to say at this time?’

‘Uh—hm. No.’

‘Very well.’ Bee kept her face neutral, but sat up straighter like she did when she got an idea. Andrew braced himself. ‘Can I ask why you don’t believe Andrew when he says he doesn’t care about Neil?’

Aaron faltered. ‘But… Andrew said he doesn’t want to talk about Neil.’

‘And so he won’t,’ Bee said easily. ‘I’m asking you why you think Andrew cares for him.’

_ This old trick,  _ Andrew thought disdainfully.  _ Uniting the brothers against a common enemy.  _ It was a move Bee had favoured when they first began their joint sessions, but Andrew had thought they’d outgrown the technique.  _ How disappointing.  _

More disappointing was the fact that Aaron fell for it. 

‘I’m not talking about Neil, but Andrew  _ obviously _ cares about him,’ Aaron said, guarded and careful with his words.

‘How would you say it’s obvious?’

‘It’s—’ Aaron uncrossed his arms, gesturing to Andrew. ‘You know. You know how obvious it is.’

‘Do I?’ Bee asked, smiling a little now. 

Andrew helped him out. ‘Bee wants to hear it in your big boy words,’ he said, realising—too late—that in doing so, Andrew had played into Bee’s scheme of uniting them against her. It was a move well played, even Andrew could concede to that.

‘I don’t know, it’s just there.’ Aaron’s words were directed at Bee. ‘He took the time to know Neil, he lets Neil reach him when no one else can, he doesn’t have a deal with Neil but he still keeps him around.’

Andrew didn’t miss the look of victory in Bee’s kind smile. ‘And are these your main concerns for after graduation, Aaron?’

It was like she slapped him. Andrew would have laughed if he was still medicated, but now stared blankly while Aaron reeled in shock. ‘What?’

‘That you don’t feel like Andrew has taken the time to know you, that you can’t reach him, that your deal is the only reason you’re sitting here now?’

Even though Andrew was well aware of what Bee was doing, he still simmered. These questions were starting to expose wounds Andrew didn’t feel like airing, and the look on his brother’s face was suddenly much less amusing. ‘Now, Bee. That’s not fair.’

‘Is it not?’ Bee asked. ‘Because from what I’m hearing, Aaron’s idea of your care is the opposite of how you regard him.’

‘I keep my promises,’ Andrew said. ‘That should be all Aaron cares about.’

‘Well, it’s not.’

Andrew glanced at Aaron out of the corner of his eye. Familiar face, unfamiliar expressions. Andrew didn’t think he’d looked that uncertain in a long time. 

Bee eyes flitted between them. ‘Would you like to say what you  _ do  _ care about, Aaron?’

‘No, I think I’m good,’ Aaron muttered, crossing his arms once more. 

Andrew shifted under his brother’s weighty gaze. 

‘Okay.’ Bee smiled at Andrew, a small apology, before broaching some easier topics: school, exy, living in the dorm, Nicky, Katelyn. Andrew didn’t like talking about Neil during their joint sessions, but Aaron had no such aversion when it came to the cheerleader. It was almost as though he was using his allotted time of Andrew’s undivided attention to try and sell him on her. But it was never going to work. Andrew’s issue was never with Katelyn. 

‘So, Andrew,’ Bee said towards the end of the session. ‘Have you thought more about the question I asked you earlier? About why you think you’re having trouble with your emotions?’

‘Yes,’ Andrew lied. ‘I think I missed one of my antidepressants last week. Probably just rippled into this week.’

It was another lie, and Bee knew it. Hell, from the look on Aaron’s face, even he knew it. But neither of them called him out.

‘And in situations like this, you would usually have Neil to look after you, but I presume someone else will have to take up his post for now?’

Bee’s words sat heavy in his chest. He needed to talk to Neil. But, until then… 

‘I’ll do it,’ Aaron volunteered, startling Andrew. He raised an eyebrow at his brother. ‘What? It’s not like you want Nicky to do it, he’s been scheming ways to fix you and Neil since Monday.’

‘Do you even know what “looking after me” entails?’ Andrew asked, derisively putting air-quotes around the words.

Aaron counted them off his fingers, ‘Make sure you take your meds, make sure you’re eating, drinking, have Betsy on speed-dial in case you have a meltdown. I’ve got it.’

Bee smiled at Aaron from behind her hand, saying nothing. 

Andrew inhaled. ‘Fine. At least you never liked Neil.’

‘I think he’s an idiot,’ Aaron corrected. ‘And I won’t lock you guys in a room until you can sort your shit or whatever the fuck Nicky had planned, but I like him for you.’

Andrew didn’t know what that meant, but it sounded all too familial for his tastes. ‘Are we done?’ he asked Bee.

Bee set down her mug, her eyes shining behind her thick frames. ‘Yes, Andrew, I’d say we are.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not really sure how I feel about this chapter but I've been editing it to death and if I keep going it's just gonna be a blur so please let me know what you think!!
> 
> Also, come find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/CAMercey) or [Tumblr!!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/camercey)


	3. Hurt Me Just Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil finally confronts Andrew, and Andrew realises his grievous mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really love making y'all cry, huh. PSA: don't read this somewhere you're gonna get judged 0:)

Someone had stolen the Maserati. 

It was parked outside Fox Tower that afternoon when Andrew left for his lecture on Forensic Psychology, but his usual parking spot sat empty when he returned at around five o’clock. He tried to stay calm. Neil usually texted him if he planned on driving somewhere, but they still weren’t talking, so it was perfectly plausible that he’d gone on a milk run or something.

That is, it was plausible until Andrew unlocked the door to their dorm and found Neil perched on his desk.

He looked up when Andrew entered. ‘We need to talk.’

‘Where’s the car?’

‘The others took it to Columbia. I told them to go on without us.’

Andrew absorbed that. ‘Who’s driving?’

‘I don’t know—’

‘Who did you give the keys to?’

‘Robin.’

‘Can she even drive?’

‘I don’t give a shit,’ Neil shot back, jumping off the desk. ‘We’re talking. And not about the car.’

Andrew set his bag down by the door. ‘What’s to talk about?’

‘Oh,  _ don’t.’  _

The sharpness of his tone had Andrew’s eyes snapping to meet Neil’s, unconsciously assessing the damage. Neil looked wrecked. His eyes were sunken into his head, like he hadn’t closed them in weeks, his skin an ashy pallor, and his rusty curls looked to be in more of a nest than usual. Andrew’s chest clenched at the sight of him. How had he let this happen?

‘Fine,’ Andrew said quietly. ‘Talk.’

Neil didn’t speak immediately, shuffling a few steps forward—a run up to the question. ‘What’s going on with you?’

It was something so many people had asked Andrew before. Foster parents, psychologists, teachers, Aaron, Nicky, Kevin… But it sounded different in Neil’s mouth. Less accusatory, somehow. Andrew didn’t know what to do with it.

Neil wasn’t bothered by Andrew’s silence. ‘Aaron said you lied to Dobson.’

‘Aaron isn’t supposed to talk about our confidential sessions.’

‘And I made sure to remind him of that,’ Neil replied coolly. ‘But he said you lied about missing a dose of your meds and weren’t planning on telling anyone the truth. I’m asking for it now. What’s going on?’

Andrew almost laughed. ‘You, asking for the truth. A little nostalgic, no?’

‘Andrew,’ Neil whispered, and Andrew knew that dredging up old memories was only going to hurt him more. 

Spreading his hands in a wide gesture, Andrew said, ‘Maybe this is just how I am, Neil.’ When Neil sighed unhappily, Andrew ploughed on. ‘Maybe sometimes I stop feeling things, and I don’t know how to start again. Maybe sometimes I take that out on you and you take it like it’s your burden to bear and I  _ hate it.’ _

Neil grimaced at the vehemence in those final words. ‘I don’t  _ take it.’  _

‘Don’t you?’ Andrew leaned back against the door, then—realising it was Neil’s only exit—side-stepped to the wall. ‘Tell me that every time I try to hurt you, you don’t laugh it off, that you don’t tell yourself I don’t mean it, or that it’s all lies.’

‘I don’t make excuses for you, Andrew,’ Neil muttered, ‘and I know you mean what you say in the moment. You mean different things at different times because you’re not always healing. Sometimes you’re breaking open again and that’s  _ okay.  _ It’s okay, because I know what you really mean when you say you hate me, I know what it feels like to be numb to the world,  _ I know you.’ _

‘No, you don’t,’ Andrew half-growled, the words low in his throat, trapped by the growing lump that threatened to strangle him. ‘You project the fantasy of a good person onto me. I’m not healing, Neil.’ His throat tightened around the truth. ‘I’m never going to heal. I’m always going to be like this. What you want me to be… it’s a fairy tale I can’t give you.’

‘I don’t want a fucking fairy tale,’ Neil shouted, ‘and fuck you for thinking that it could ever—that  _ I _ could ever—be that simple.’ It wasn’t often that he resorted to yelling off the court, but Andrew had lit the fuse to that famous temper and it flickered and danced behind the blue flames Neil wore for eyes. ‘You really think someone like me is destined to live a life with someone who isn’t broken? With someone who could never begin to understand half of me?’ Neil shook his head. ‘No, Andrew. Because I don’t want a fairy tale, I want  _ you.’  _

‘Why?’

Neil faltered. ‘What?’

Kicking off the wall, Andrew stood directly in front of Neil with his arms by his sides. ‘You’ve always said, since the very beginning, that the only one you’re interested in is me, but you’ve never once said why.’

Their gazes warred with each other. Neil was the first to look away. ‘Beats me.’

‘Neil.’

Andrew curled his fingers around Neil’s chin, guiding his eyes back. And it was so, intrinsically, achingly familiar. Andrew’s thumb knew where to rest, his fingers expected the fine graze of stubble along Neil’s jaw. Neil’s name was written in Andrew’s blood, because  _ Neil  _ had scrawled it there, and Andrew just needed to know  _ why.  _

He dropped his hand. He had Neil’s attention now. 

When Neil sighed it was like he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders. ‘Because you didn’t let anything destroy you,’ he murmured. ‘Because you knew what it was like to get fucked over so many times that it was all you knew, and you still kept going back for others; going back for me. I felt safe with you, because I knew you could look all my demons in the eye and tell them to fuck off. I know, because you already have, Andrew, multiple times.’ 

It had been better when Neil was yelling. These soft admissions that all sounded like lies on Neil’s tongue were unbearable. Andrew took a step backwards, as though pushed, but he could see that Neil’s hands were tucked safely behind his back.

‘And I was learning to do the same for you,’ he finished.

Now it was Andrew who couldn’t meet Neil’s eye. He stared at the little red light on the TV. ‘Past-tense.’

‘You were the one who made it that way.’

‘Is it too late to take it back?’

Tension coiled Andrew’s hands into fists. He stared at the TV light until he was sure it had burned itself into his retinas. When Andrew dared to look back, Neil’s eyes were closed, and it was easier without the flames scorching him from within. 

‘Neil,’ he said, emboldened enough to retake the step forward. 

‘Neil,’ he said again, and Neil took a shuddering breath.

‘Neil, yes or no?’

Neither of them moved while the question hung between them, suspended between breaths. Neil’s eyes gradually opened, searching Andrew’s face while blood and fear and  _ feeling  _ pulsed loudly in Andrew’s ears. 

‘No,’ Neil said, and Andrew’s heart stopped beating until he realised the question Neil was answering. ‘No, it’s not too late to take it back.’

Andrew put a hand up to Neil’s face; a question, and Neil gave a small nod; an answer. 

Curling his hand around the nape of Neil’s neck felt like coming home, if Andrew knew what the feeling was, and Neil leaned down until they were forehead-to-forehead, nose-to-nose, breath-to-breath. They stood there for a moment—they stood there for an age—soaking in the other and communicating in a language known only to them. 

Andrew had thought he spoke it fluently, but something got lost in translation when he leaned further forwards, and Neil pulled away.

‘I’m sorry,’ Neil whispered, sadly watching Andrew’s hand slip from his shoulder.

‘For what?’

‘I— I think I need time,’ Neil admitted. ‘I need sleep, and a clear head, and space to think. I’m not running, I’m just—’

‘Go.’

‘Andrew?’

‘Go,’ Andrew repeated, stepping around Neil and giving him a clear shot to the door. ‘I’ll be here.’

He felt Neil’s eyes boring through his back for just a moment, and then the click of the door opening and closing signalled that he was gone. 

The air left Andrew’s lungs in one long gust as he sank to the carpet, the same carpet where he had first pushed Neil down and kissed him. Andrew didn’t count the disaster on the roof as their first. That had been a momentary lapse in control, a mistake.

As he looked around the room, all he could see was evidence of Neil: A pair of Neil’s jeans folded neatly by the bathroom door, the section of kitchen wall covered in polaroids of the foxes, courtesy of the camera Andrew had bought him one Christmas, the broken piece of door frame that Neil had duct-taped down and declared “fixed” to a hysterically laughing Robin. Neil’s textbooks. Neil’s soda bottle full of pens. Neil’s phone.

_ Fuck. _

_ His phone. _

Andrew got up to grab it from the kitchen counter, turning it in his hands. Through his strangely warped vision, Andrew watched a water droplet fall onto the screen. Andrew touched his face. His cheeks were wet. 

Tears. 

As wistful and regrettable as the sound of a belt whistling through the air, colliding with flesh. That had been the last time he cried. Ever since, it had been his belief that he’d lost the ability altogether, yet here he was.

The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on Andrew. He had hurt Neil to see if it would hurt him, and here he was, right where he wanted to be, the reaction delayed and all too potent. 

Andrew rubbed the tear between his fingers. If nothing else, at least he could thank Neil for giving him this. For hurting him just enough to bring him back from the precipice. A few tears weren’t worth Neil, and Andrew hoped that he hadn’t already paid too high a price in exchange for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY. The last chapter contains the happy ending I promised, I SWEAR.   
> Thank you so much for all the awesome comments on this fic, I really didn't think anyone but [dahmers_apt213](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dahmers_apt213/pseuds/dahmers_apt213) was gonna read it, so I'm incredibly touched.
> 
> Come find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/CAMercey) or [Tumblr!!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/camercey)


	4. Make Me Feel Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand, as promised, the happy ending :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooly dooly, this was meant to go up yesterday but LIFE HAPPENED, ACK.  
> Anyway, thank you to those of you who subscribed to this fic, I honestly didn't think anyone would like my stab at angst so REALLY, THANKS!!

A few hours after Neil left, Andrew got a phone call. 

_ ‘Do you care to explain why the captain of my team’s currently unconscious on my couch?’ _

‘Hey, Coach,’ Andrew greeted him, a weight lifting off his chest. He’d figured Neil would find his way to Wymack’s, but it was still a relief to have it confirmed.

_ ‘Answers, Minyard. What the hell is going on?’  _ Though Wymack’s voice was hushed, probably to keep from waking Neil, Andrew heard the anger and underlying concern colouring his tone. 

He ran a hand down his face and sighed. ‘Neil hasn’t been sleeping. Just leave him there. I’ll pick him up from the court tomorrow.’

_ ‘He’s not going to the court tomorrow.’ _

Andrew scoffed. ‘You really think you can stop him?’

_ ‘Yeah, I forgot who we were talking about,’  _ Wymack grumbled. _ ‘Are you in the same way?’ _

‘Did I turn into an exy-obsessed idiot overnight? Sorry to burst your bubble, Coach—’

_ ‘Quit being a shitty midget and just tell me if I need to send Abby over to force-feed you as well.’  _

Andrew thought about his lunch, the lone granola bar he’d taken two tasteless bites of and promptly discarded. ‘Why don’t you just divert that paternal concern Neil’s way and leave me out of it.’

_ ‘Sure. Fine. Whatever. Just promise me you’re gonna take care of yourself, and…’  _ Wymack trailed off for a moment before saying,  _ ‘I really hope you two can work this out, Andrew.’ _

Andrew’s fingers froze where they were playing over his comforter, the lump in his throat coming back to strangle him. Around it, he choked, ‘Pay check, Coach,’ and hung up.

Wymack’s words echoed in Andrew’s hollow chest, the sadness in them reflecting Andrew’s own despair. It had been so long since he’d let himself want anything, but—dear god—he wanted to work things out with Neil.

— 

‘Keys.’

‘Hello to you too,’ Aaron muttered, placing the keys to the Maserati in Andrew’s palm. 

It was four o’clock in the afternoon by the time Neil’s phone got a text from Nicky that they were “2 mins awy so if doin the nasty rply to this with a  🍆 .” 

_ Ah, Nicky. Ever the optimist, ever the creep. _

Andrew had gotten down to the parking lot just as Aaron was pulling in and, though he would never admit to it, he’d been relieved to see his brother behind the wheel. Nicky drove like a maniac and Andrew wasn’t sure Robin had a license, but he knew the cheerleader had taught Aaron to drive her car, so he figured he must be semi-competent. 

‘Did Neil talk to you?’ Robin asked once Aaron had handed over the keys.

Andrew pointed one at her. ‘Don’t think I’m unaware that you were behind that.’

Robin’s cheeks went red and she ducked behind Nicky. ‘He was gonna talk to you anyway. I just facilitated it.’

‘You are a cunning little wretch and I regret ever taking you on,’ Andrew said, without heat. ‘Now I have to go fetch a striker.’

‘Good luck,’ Robin wished him quietly.

Nicky, using his brain for once, waited until Andrew was buckled in before shouting, ‘Go get your man!’

Andrew scowled at the two of them—Aaron had long since gone inside—while he reversed, but he’d be lying if he said their faith in him wasn’t reassuring. He needed to succeed in getting Neil to trust him again, and if others believed he could do it, then maybe it was possible. 

— 

Andrew waited in the car outside the Foxhole Court, eating a cinnamon roll with the windows down. Heavy clouds hung low and dark in the sky, the rich purple of a coming storm. It was going to rain again. He took another bite and the pastry coated his teeth uncomfortably. The sugar made his head fuzzy. His skin crawled with nerves. The cinnamon roll was the first thing he’d eaten all day, and the first thing he’d tasted all week. 

Usually sweet foods served to ground him. Growing up, Andrew had been denied sugar in all of its forms, so the taste of it on his tongue was a stark reminder that things were different. 

He balled up the paper bag it had come in and looked up to see Neil talking animatedly with Jack Iverson as they left the court and paused in front of Andrew’s car. 

Neil looked better. His eyes were brighter, his face less drawn, his shoulders pulled back as far as the runaway in him would allow, and Andrew breathed a little easier. 

Leaning out of the window, Andrew asked, ‘Up for a drive?’

Neil smiled at him. ‘Up for dropping Jack back at the dorms?’

Andrew made a show of looking at the clouds, and then at the three mile walk back to Fox Tower. ‘If he runs, he could probably make it back before the rain starts.’

Jack’s face darkened, but he obediently set off at a brisk walk. He knew Andrew’s memory was far longer than Neil’s, and that  _ he _ wouldn’t forget Jack’s freshman-year fuck-ups quite as easily as Neil had seemed to. 

Exasperated and amused, Neil got into the car. ‘There’s no way he’s beating the rain.’

‘Imagine my distress.’

When Neil laughed, Andrew leaned down and grabbed the small container of cut-up grapefruit from below the console. Though neither of them were the sort for romantic gestures, it had been reflexive for Andrew to get something for Neil on the way past the campus cafeteria. 

Neil raised an eyebrow at the offering. ‘Olive branch?’

‘Coach said something about force-feeding you,’ Andrew said, shaking the fruit until Neil took it. 

‘And what about you?’

‘Me?’

‘Andrew,’ Neil said, abruptly serious. ‘You haven’t finished a meal in over a week.’

_ Ah,  _ Andrew thought, his chest aching.  _ Even after everything, he still pays attention.  _

‘Eat your olive branch,’ Andrew said, starting up the car.

‘More of a grape vine, really,’ Neil replied, flashing a weak grin when Andrew made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a complaint. Neil’s way of getting under his defences never failed to catch him off guard. He didn’t want that to change.

Andrew didn’t drive far, parking in front of a walking trail secluded by a wall of trees on either side. Neil sucked grapefruit juice from his fingers and Andrew shut the car off just as the rain began to fall. They watched water droplets hit the windshield, Andrew’s eyes dragged down whenever one rolled along the glass. Oddly, the blurred image reflected the absent feeling he’d been battling lately. He knew what he was meant to be seeing, but the definition of the image just wasn’t there.

After waiting a beat, Andrew broke the silence. ‘I’m sorry.’

He felt Neil’s eyes on him, but kept his gaze on the distorted scene in front of him. 

‘I still don’t know what happened, but you didn’t deserve it.’

There was the sound of crinkling plastic and then Neil was facing him properly, the container of fruit once more on the floor. ‘Can you at least tell me if it was about graduation?’

Andrew nodded. ‘It is probably a part of it. It’s—’ He tapped out an irregular rhythm on the steering wheel, agitated. ‘I rely on you too much, I think I always have.’

‘I believe that’s called a relationship,’ Neil pointed out.

‘Nothing’s that simple for us,’ Andrew argued. ‘We’re not the standard definition of a relationship, Neil. I let you manage me, and it’s so fucking stupid, but I can’t help thinking about what will happen when I have no choice but to manage myself.’

Neil was frowning when Andrew glanced at him. ‘I don’t understand.’

Andrew sighed in frustration. ‘You always know when I’m close to snapping.’ Neil hummed slowly in confirmation. ‘And you intervene. You divert the attention long enough for me to pull it together, you say something that distracts me, you  _ exist.  _ Without your intervention, I’m going to snap a lot more.’

The admissions wrenched themselves out of Andrew, violent and ugly and raw. 

Neil shook his head. ‘You don’t need me for that,’ he said quietly. ‘You’ve always said I’m not your answer. I’m still not.’

‘Don’t quote me to make a point,’ Andrew seethed.

‘Why not? I’m right.’

‘You are a nuisance and I’m going to bury your body where no one will ever find it.’ 

A small smile played around Neil’s mouth at that comment, at the familiarity of it. ‘And then what would you do? You need me as much as I need you.’

Andrew gritted his teeth. ‘Co-dependency is nothing to be smug about.’

‘We’re not  _ co-dependent,’  _ Neil scoffed. ‘Just because  _ people _ aren’t forever doesn’t mean they can’t be for a long time. It doesn’t mean  _ we  _ can’t be for a long time. It doesn’t mean we can’t depend on each other every now and again.’

‘Would we even work long-distance?’

‘Ungh, well—’ 

It was clear the question had caught Neil by surprise, but he didn’t falter his way through a bullshit reassurance. He considered the question, and Andrew appreciated that.

‘I think we would,’ he eventually decided. ‘I mean, we’re not Nicky and Erik—thank god—but it would only be for a year.’

‘That’s if we manage to get you on the same team as me after graduation, which is not likely.’

‘Even two years,’ Neil said, eyes wide at the possibility of so much time. ‘We have that now, Andrew.  _ Years.’  _

That was the other fork in the road where he and Neil diverged. Time was something Andrew whittled away at, letting it pass and not fighting it. For Neil, time was a luxury he never thought he’d have. 

‘I’m not like you, Neil,’ Andrew whispered over the sounds of the rain. ‘For me, every day brings a new trial. Good day, bad day. Will I want to kiss you, will I want to kill you, will I want to hurt you. You shouldn’t have to live with someone who has to ask those kinds of questions.’

‘Oh, fuck off,’ Neil replied tiredly. ‘You act like I don’t have my own shit. Like there aren’t days that creep up on me when things are going just a little  _ too  _ well. Days when I want to tear this life apart, leave the shreds behind me, and run, without any rhyme or reason for the urge. What if I said that  _ you  _ shouldn’t have to deal with  _ me?’  _

Andrew should have known better than to argue with Neil Josten. The man was dangerous with words, twisting your will until you forgot your original argument and gave in to his. 

‘We should have had this conversation yesterday, when you were dead on your feet.’

Neil snorted. ‘You still wouldn’t have won. I don’t care how many times I need to say it, Andrew, but you’re stuck with me for as long as you want me around.’

‘Who says I want anything?’ Andrew said automatically, then paused. He swallowed. ‘What if I do?’

‘Come again?’

‘What if I do want you around?’

The smile Neil favoured him with lacked any shadow. This smile was true, and genuine, and blinding.

‘Then you’ve got me.’

The words should be impossible, and yet he was saying them. This pipedream of a man, whose broken pieces somehow slotted alongside Andrew’s with so little effort, was promising to do the one thing he’d never done for anyone else; the one thing no one had ever done for Andrew. He promised to stay. 

Andrew didn’t need to ask for a “Yes or no?” Neil was already leaning towards him. Their lips met in an explosion of cinnamon roll and grapefruit, the combination bitter and sweet. The rain hammered down as a storm raged above them, the sky growing dark but for the occasional flash that lit the back of Andrew’s eyelids on fire.

Thunder rolled long and low while they climbed into the backseat, folding into each other with no secrets or stick shift in the way. It had rained when Andrew had tried to push Neil away, too. But that had been exposure and fear. That had been whistling wind and darkness and cold chilling their skin beneath their clothes. Now was losing each other to warm kisses that rapidly grew hot, searching, demanding. 

Now was Andrew fisting his hands in Neil’s sweater, silently vowing to keep that tight grip on him no matter his own doubts.

Now was Andrew’s mouth between Neil’s legs, and Neil’s desperate moans, and their entwined hands around Andrew while he drove both of them over the edge.

Now was safety and pleasure and the knowledge that whatever happened, they would have this. They got to have this. This was something that Andrew was allowed to let himself want, and so he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we have it!! Thanks again to [dahmers_apt213](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dahmers_apt213/pseuds/dahmers_apt213) for picking a song that made me go NUTS with ideas. I hope you enjoyed the ride <3
> 
> Come find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/CAMercey) or [Tumblr!!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/camercey)


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